


Nightmares

by thescienceofshipping



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:31:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1847935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescienceofshipping/pseuds/thescienceofshipping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As time went on Waylon became dependent on the nightly ritual. When Eddie was working late – sewing Waylon new dresses or punishing sluts – Waylon would fall into a fitful sleep which he would wake from screaming Lisa’s name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

Waylon Park had adjusted to his new life as Mrs. Eddie Gluskin as well as could be expected. He spent his days cleaning the women’s ward, and doing whatever Eddie deemed important for couples to do together. This ranged from having Waylon fitted for dresses as Eddie adjusted them, to cooing over baby blankets that Eddie had sewn. 

That was not to say that life as Eddie Gluskins wife was all a twisted blood stained version of Leave it to Beaver. Eddie made it perfectly clear to Waylon that a large part of his wifely duties involved always being ready to be pleasured or pleasure his insatiable husband.

Although Eddie always ignored Waylon’s ‘clit’ he did seek out every erogenous zone of his wife’s body when they made love. (“Only sluts fuck, darling,” Eddie had told Waylon the first time he begged willingly for Eddie to take him. “Happily married couples make love.”)

At night Eddie would make love to his darling wife before soothing him to sleep in the nest of blankets and pillows that made up their marital bed. Waylon grew used to falling asleep to declarations of love and devotion from Eddie. Sometimes he would even sing his bride to sleep – ending each verse of /I Want a Girl’ by kissing his darling. 

As time went on Waylon became dependent on the nightly ritual. When Eddie was working late – sewing Waylon new dresses or punishing sluts – Waylon would fall into a fitful sleep which he would wake from screaming Lisa’s name. Eddie always heard Waylon’s cries – he seemed to have a six sense involving his wife’s pain – and comfort him back to dreams which involved Eddie and him surrounded by happy children and a white picket fence.

Tonight was one of those nights. Waylon had prepared dinner, but when he went to fetch his husband he found him upset with a hem that will not lay flat. “I will not have my darling wife going around in some whorish dress,” Eddie said, but his anger lessened when he noticed Waylon timidly standing behind him, pressing soft kisses to the damaged side of his face.

“Go back home darling. I will return soon,” Eddie assured. And so Waylon had eaten his dinner alone and lay in his bed awaiting his husband. Eventually Waylon drifted off to the distant sound of screams.  
…

He was home – his real home that he and Lisa had bought right after the birth of their first son. Waylon walked toward the house but once he reached the stairs, he found he could not move any further. He looked back to see Lisa stepping on the long hem of his wedding dress.

“Who the hell are you?” She asked and Waylon could have cried, hearing the song of his wife’s voice.

“It’s me Lisa! Waylon! It’s your husband!”

But Lisa simply laughed. “Listen lady I don’t know who you are, but I have no husband.”

A force was pulling him away from the house, and when he looked at the porch again he saw Lisa and his two young sons laughing at him, as his youngest lifted a video camera…  
…

Waylon woke up. He felt himself covered by something heavy and unmovable. He screamed, “Lisa!” and a voice above him spoke.

“Darling,” cooed Eddie. He had heard his screams several minutes before and had quickly made his way to Waylon. “It’s just you and me darling. There’s no nasty Lisa or whoever you came up with in your silly little head. “He easily moved Waylon so he was seated on his lap.

Waylon continued to cry as Eddie decorated his face with kisses. “It’s just you and me darling. You and me.” Eddie hummed his favorite song to his sweet wife who seemed to calm, hearing the familiar tune. 

Waylon stopped crying and clung to Eddie as he asked in a quiet voice, “Do you really love me?”

“Of course I do, darling. More than anything else in the whole wide world.”

And Waylon was tired, so tired, that he fell asleep in Eddies lap, happy that somebody loved him.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello to me on tumblr at hannigramismydesign.tumblr.com!


End file.
